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THE SONGS OF PHRYNE. 



By the Same Author: 

EPHEMERA. Greek Prose Poems (in English). 

THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. Amatory Epigrams 

(translated) . 

LUCIAN'S Dialogues of the Hetaerai (translated). 

APHRODITE, of Pierre Louys (translated). 



Mitchell S. Buck 



The Songs ofPhryne 



PHILADELPHIA 

NICHOLAS L. BROWN 
MCMXVII 



^,.) 



Copyright igiy 

by Nicholas L. Brown. 



Printed in U. S. A. 






#>0,^ 



AUG -9 1317 



CONTENTS 

I— Naiads 
n— Star of the Night 

III_SUNSET 

IV— Hymenaeus ! 

V— Spring 

VI— Thou wilt not forget? 
VII— Thespiae, farewell! 
VIII— Men of Athens 

IX— The Reeds 
X— Since I have no precious jewels 

XI— The Philosopher 

XII— The Roman 
XIII— Kypris 
XIV— Phryne to Lysos 

XV— What eyes ! 
XVI— The Stream 

XVII— DiONYSOS 

XVIII—Eleusis 



XIX — Apelles 
XX — Phryne to Nicippe 
XXI — Praxiteles 
XXII— Adoration 
XXIII— Hail! Goddess! 
XXIV— Slaves, fill the lamps ! 
XXV— The Eros 
XXVI— Each Springtime . . 
XXVII— The Walls of Thebes 
XXVIII— NiappE 
XXIX— Autumn 



Phryne lived in the 
fourth century B. C. 
She was so beautifm 
that she has never 
been forgotten. 



I 



NAIADS, raise your pale faces 
through the shadowy water. 
I have come to show you 
something; I have come to bathe 
among you. 

See: I am almost a woman; I am 
no longer a child. Soon all my 
dreams will come true... How 
long have I gathered and stored 
away, like a bee, all my love ! But 
how uncouth the shepherds; how 
sharp the eyes of men upon the 
streets ! Would that I might find, 
with you, Naiads, a lover with 
great, soft eyes, among the dim 
forest creatures! 



11 



Raise your faces, Naiads, through 

the shadowy water. It is I 

Phryne. I have come to show you 
something. See: I have come to 
bathe among you. 



12 



II 



STAR OF THE NIGHT, soft 
spreading out thy radiance, 
where has my lover gone? 
canst thou not find him? Deep 
shadow of the trees, does thy 
depth hide him? Silvery meadow, 
do his wandering feet press thy 
flowers? White roadway, hast 
thou led him away, toward the 
purple hills? 

How distant the hour when first I 
saw him: that hour when I passed 
him, blushing and with faltering 
step! Why did he not speak?. . . 
Perhaps he thought I was a child 
...Three days have dragged 



13 



away; I have lived in the market- 
place; I have w^andered in the 
fields; but nowhere have I found 
him. 

Star of the Night, tell me: where 
has my lover gone. Search thou 
for me, since all the world spreads 
out before thee. If thou findest 
him, tell him of my longing and 
of my nights untouched with 
sleep — and forget thou not to say 
that I am fair. 



14 



Ill 

WHEN the sun burns like a 
red disc in the western sky 
and the shadows lengthen 
across the meadows, far on the 
hill-slopes Cleon sounds his pipes 
and I see the distant sheep slowly 
gather to the fold. Soon the 
world grows very still. Only a 
red glow marks the cooling path 
of the sun; the trees lose their 
shadows; a slow mist rises over 
the fields. 

Night full of terrors and joys: 
night pale beneath the stars or 
bright with moonlight: thy voice 
calls to me over the drowsing 



15 



world and thy vague promise 
whispers among the trees. I grow 
afraid with an unknown fear and 
warm with an unknown longing, 
so languorous is the fall of thy 
purple mantle, so mysterious the 
stirnngs which thou shelterest, 
so murmurous the brooding of the 
shadowed earth. 



16 



IV 



THOU art a pretty girl; too 
pretty to be selling capers for 
a few oboli. What is thy 
charming name? — What matters 
my name? If thou wilt buy, say 
what thou wishest; if not, I will 
pass on. — I will buy .. .thyself. 
Wilt thou sell? — I do not love; I 
have no lovers. Thou art a 
stranger here. — So pretty! Is it 
possible! How old art thou? — I 
am a woman. Women do not tell 
their age. 

— Of course. My name is Archias 
and I am from Thebes. Thou hast 
heard of Thebes? Enter here. I 



17 



will treat thee gently. Thou art a 
pretty girl; thou art a very pretty 
girl. I will give thee a golden 
stater.— I could have had one 
long since . . . many times . . . 
What a lovely basin!. . .Give me 
three and I remain.— Slaves, close 
the doors! 

— Hymenaeus! O Hymenaeus!— 
I love thee; I v^ill stay v^ith thee 
until thou sendest me away. — Ah, 
child! if thou wouldst! How 
many such sweet vows of the 
night have paled with the Star of 
Morning!. . . 



18 



V 



SPRING is the time of warmth 
and life, when a vague move- 
ment stirs deep within the 
earth and all the flowers raise 
their bright faces toward the sun. 
And my face, also, embellished by 
thy love, lifts itself, like a flower, 
toward the sun of thine eves. 



19 



VI 

AND thou wilt come from 
Thebes to see me? Thou 
wilt not forget? — Forget 
thee, child!... But alas! for how 
short a time will I, alone, have 
memories! 



20 



VII 

THESPIAE, which gave me 
birth: Thespiae, dwelHng of 
Semele: proud Thespiae, too 
proud to give the great Persian 
even his water and earth: I leave 
thee. Fields, rich with harvests: 
clear springs and pools: soft-roll- 
ing hills: I leave you all. 

Far beyond the slopes of Kitli- 
aeron, to the south, I go — to 
Athens, which men call the violet- 
crowned. With my flutes slung 
upon my shoulder, with my girdle 
not too tightly bound, I go, per- 
haps never to return. 



21 



Goddess — thou who watchest 
over poor girls — grant that men 
may be pleased with my fairness; 
if I serve thee truly, grant that I 
may be happy, and that love may, 
some day, bury me, like another 
Danae, in another flood of gold. 



22 



VIII 

MEN of Athens: pass me by: 
see me not. Good! I am 
only a flute-player. There 
are many such, are there not?. . . 
There are none like me! Wait! 
In a month, ten men shall know 
my name; in two months, forty 
men; in three months, two hun- 
dred! 

Poets: to you I will teach a new 
song; to painters, a new beauty; 
to philosophers, a new philos- 
ophy. I will defy you; I will cor- 
rect your verses; I will condemn 
your colors; I will overthrow 



your laws!. . .1, Phrync of Thes- 
piae, speak! 

Yes, I will play the flutes at your 
festivals for a drachma. But no 
man shall touch me for a 
drachma, nor for two, nor six. He 
who loves me shall give me gold 
— he shall give me gold, even for 
the least warm glance of mine 
eyes! 

It is I, Phryne of Thespiae, speak- 
ing. . .And I am afraid. — I am 
afraid of your city, of its streets, 
its houses, its vast, cold temples. 
I am afraid and I am alone and I 
hate you . . . But I will conquer 
you all, I will conquer you all; 



24 



and, for every tear you bring to 
mine eyes, you shall pay a thou- 
sandfold with unpierced pearls! 



25 



IX 



SLENDER reeds, companions 
of my labors: when I breathe 
into you, limpid notes flow 
out; when I sigh, you moan with 
a thousand sorrows; when I blow, 
you shrill with sudden clamor. 

To your gentler notes, Nicippe, 
my friend, sings the lovely verse 
of Sappho; to your swinging 
rhythms, the feet of the dancers 
poise and beat upon the floor; to 
your shrilling, the women shud- 
der and the spirit of shaggy Pan 
flashes in the eyes of men. 

Slender reeds, companions of my 
labors, never will the choicest 



wines seem sweeter to me than 
the kiss of your waxen Hps; never 
Vv^ill the ardor of men warm me as 
your swift response; never will 
the smoothest silks receive from 
my hands the caresses I lavish 
upon your shining, polished slen- 
derness. 



27 



X 



SINCE I have no precious jew- 
els, I will wear none at all, 
not even my comb of ivory. 
Since I have no soft, rare vest- 
ments, I will wear, simply, a 
white robe, without clasps or bor- 
ders, and the folds of it shall fall 
about mine ankles. Since I have 
no fan, I will bear in my hands 
only the soft caresses of my love 
and the w^atchful vengeance of 
my polished nails. 

Thus ready, I will appear upon 
the streets. He who desires me, I 
will refuse. I will refuse all. They 
will follow me and suppHcate; to- 



28 



morrow they will return and offer 
me, not silver, but gold. 

For I am beautiful, even naked 
and without jewels. Already I 
have seen it in the eyes of men; 
and the lips of men have told me. 
Some day, I will sit in the theatre, 
clad in broidered vestments, laden 
with jewels, and surrounded by 
my slaves. All men shall desire 
me. The rulers of men shall lay 
their treasures at my feet. 



29 



XI 

PROUD philosopher, thou pas- 
ses! with a quick step, thine 
eyes upon the ground, thy 
brows wrinkled and scowling. 
Thou seest me not, perhaps. Seest 
thou not, philosopher? 

Stand thou upon the Poecile 
among thy followers. Declaim 
thy theses in purest Attic... 
Thinkest thou to teach of the 
soul, thou to whom even life is 
closed? Thy books, tightly 
clutched in thine arms — what do 
they teach thee, these foolish 
books? Do they teach thee that 



30 



life speeds; that the golden hours 
will soon be past? 
Men whisper strange things of 
thee; thou hast enemies whose 
tongues are never idle. He whose 
wife openly loves elsewhere, who 
is never seen with the courtesans, 
whose only praises are heard 
when he visits the palaestra... 

Art thou, then, so virtuous? 
Truly, thou art a paragon, with 
thy disordered cloak and staring 
eyes! And a young girl speaks, 
from her threshold, greater words 
of wisdom than thine own... 
How thou glarest at me! Pass 
on, then. The fault is mine if still 
I imagined thee a man. 

31 



XII 

I AM a Greek. In my limbs, the 
blood of heroes flows. I am 
the child of holy mountains 
and of flowering fields; within my 
body dwells one spark of a 
mighty spirit. Thou, thou art a 
Roman from a barbarous land; 
thou art dusky and strange; thou 
hast proud, cold eyes... To the 
Greeks, I give myself, and they 
adore me. Thou, who art not a 
Greek, aspirest far. 

— Yet thou wilt love me with all 
thy love. Thou wilt pour the wine 
into my wine-cup; thou wilt daz- 
zle even my — barbarian — eyes 



32 



with thy beauty; thou wilt sing to 
me, in the moonHght, the songs of 
Sappho and, in the heavy dark, 
the whispered songs of Astyan- 
assa...For these complaisances, 
I will give thee all the gold thou 
canst hold in thy two hollowed 
hands and a jewel like moonlight 
on the waters to wear at thy soft- 
curved throat. I am indeed proud 
— those I love are not indiffer- 
ently rewarded, and are not for- 
gotten. 

— Thou art handsome. If thou 
wouldst conquer, then, for this 
time, Phryne of Thespiae yields 
to Rome. Guard thou that con- 
quest bring thee not disaster. 



XIII 

GODDESS born of the sea, 
eternal, multiform: Phryne 
consecrates to thee this 
girdle which, like thine, enfolds 
all in the flames of desire. She 
consecrates to thee also this yel- 
low veil, in memory of those days 
when she had no veils; and these 
ten staters in memory of those 
days when she had no gold. 

Grant thou, O goddess, that she 
may have vestments still more 
gorgeous and lovers still wealth- 
ier; that she may reveal to men 
some semblance, however slight. 



34 



of thine own glory; that she may 
become, of all thy votaries, the 
most desired and the best beloved. 



85 



XIV 

To Lysos, son of Themistocles: 
Thou weepest continually at 
my door, before the aston- 
ished eyes of passers-by, com- 
plaining that I will not receive 
thee; that I have no regard for 
love. 

Remember: once I admitted thee 
and thou didst offer me showers 
of tears and a few drachmae. . . 
Wouldst thou have me in rags 
upon a pallet of straw? Thou art 
young and foolish. Seek some 
flute-player, not an hetaera, and 
annoy me no longer. 



S6 



XV 

WHAT eyes! like caverns! 
and over night! By the 
two goddesses! Nossis, 
the cosmetics, quickly! Wait! See 
what thy coaxing hands may do 
. . .That cursed Dorian! I might 
have expected this. He must 
have been born in a forest among 
the wolves and spent all his life 
in the palaestra. I thought he 
would never sleep! 

It is a difficult life, trying to 
please all men! These of Athens 
may be more exacting, but refine- 
ment quickens their pleasures, 
even the most unusual...! will 



37 



receive no more ruffians, no more 
aspirants to the club of Herakles, 
great-handed satyrs . . . Nossis, 
take notice; I swear this by the 
Kyprian . . . By the way, carry for 
me, to the temple, to-day, a tenth 
of this man's gold; and forget not 
to make a wish before the statue. 



XVI 

SWEET, shadowed stream, 
babbling upon thy way: 
would that I might bathe in 
thee, that I might give my body 
to thy caress cool from the moun- 
tain woodlands. 

But I dare not; even in solitary 
places there are spying eyes. 
What huntsman, what wander- 
ing shepherd, might, in passing, 
gaze like another Actaeon — be- 
holding only a less vengeful god- 
dess — and tell, that night, above 
the wine-cups, what he had seen, 
unknown and unreproved? 

39 



I, who go not even with women 
to the public baths — shall I be 
seen with impunity, naked in 
some forest glade?... Ah! years 
ago, how little I would have 
cared! 

Clear stream, farewell. Not this 
day shall thine eager waters creep 
over my perfumed limbs. I am 
from the city and — almost — I 
have forgotten. . .Seek on thy 
way some sun-browned shepherd- 
ess, her flesh dusty, her lips still 
moist with the milk of goats. 
More happily wilt thou touch her, 
since she is more a part of thee — 
a part of the blue sky overhead. 
. . .Slaves, move on! 



40 



XVII 

HERE, where mighty Kith- 
aeron uprears its sacred 
bulk, the sunHght sparkles 
through the cool air, the pines dif- 
fuse their spicy perfume and, on 
the trellises, the purple grapes 
hang in thick clusters, awaiting 
the vintner's hand. 

Great Dionysos, immortal, this 
fair land is worthy, even of thee. 
Here dost thou lavish thy gifts 
upon men — thou and holy Deme- 
ter who breathes in the soft rustle 
of the golden grain. And here 
the earth has built for thee a 
temple, mighty through the ages. 



41 



greater far than anv temple 
formed by human hands. 
Through the sunlight, the voice 
of the syrinx blends with the 
songs of harvest. The still night 
whispers the silent message of 
thy presence . . . Thus would I find 
thee; thus would I know thee, in 
silence, like some strange dream. 
Yet— when the silence of thy 
worship is shattered by a thou- 
sand Maenads, by flaring torches 
and the clash of cymbals, I would 
revel with thee also, foam-flecked 
and panting, and splash the col- 
umns of thy sanctuary with my 
seething, maddened blood. 



42 



XVIII 

IN all Hellas, who has not heard 
my name ? How many, whom 
I have never seen, have spoken 
of my love? And now, in one 
day, have twenty thousand men 
beheld me. 

Before all these pious pilgrims, 
upon the strands of Eleusis, I 
walked slowly and alone to the 
water's edge. Those who first 
saw me, gazed; my name flew 
from lip to lip. 

Across the sparkling waters, lay 
Salamis, faintly blue; above, 
through the clear air, shone the 
bright sun of Attica; at my feet, 

43 



the little waves lapped upon the 
sand... I dropped my robes and 
stood naked, without a jewel, 
without a veil, and gave my body 
to the clear waters. . . 

I — Phryne — before all eyes, 
bathed in the open sea. And 
when I came forth from the wa- 
ters, a great sigh swept over all 
that multitude. . .Ah! did I not 
say that I was beautiful! 



44 



XIX 

I WOULD paint thee, I would 
limn thee in the purest colors, 
as I saw thee that day upon 
the borders of the sea. Like a 
goddess thou didst face the wa- 
ters and the sky; the waves rip- 
pled about thy thighs. . .Where 
was Poseidon, on that day, at his 
own festival? By what divine re- 
pression wert thou not ravished 
from us like another Amymone? 

Like a goddess thou camest up 
from the waves, wringing the re- 
luctant water from thine hair 
golden as the sunlight, the sea- 
foam still upon thee, the water- 



46 



drops glowing like pearls upon 
thy shoulders — thou the Pearl- 
Born and Immortal. 
I would paint thee as I saw thee, 
naked and perfect and beautiful. 
In all the world, there is no one so 
beautiful as thou. And I would 
set thee up that all might see, as 
those of Eleusis, favored above 
all. 

Thou art fair beyond all dreams; 
and I, Apelles, am skilful. One 
hour, each day, for a few days; 
one hour from thy sleep or from 
thy toilette — and I will show thee 
thyself, as in a mirror, born of the 
smiling waters — Aphrodite Ana- 
dyomene ! 

46 



XX 

PHRYNE to Nicippe. Greet- 
ing: 

My dear: I hasten to tell 
thee that I am free. Thou wilt be 
delighted. And Euthias is in dis- 
grace; they say he is in despair. 
But what could he expect? Lov- 
ers should never grow angry; 
when they do, they are lost. . .It 
is true I refused him twice; thou 
knowest, my dear, I choose my 
lovers, not they me. Yet, thus to 
accuse me; to even have me sum- 
moned before the Areopagos — 
and for impiety! That was seri- 
ous; I might have been executed ! 



47 



Be assured, I shall reward Hy- 
perides handsomely. . .Well, they 
took me before the judges. Im- 
agine the crimes with which Eu- 
thias charged me! I had profaned 
the Eleusinian Mysteries! I had 
raised up strange gods! I had in- 
stituted unlawful and secret rites ! 
...Thou knowest, my dear, to 
what extent my mysteries go. 
Even the strangest is sanctioned 
by custom, here at Athens; and, 
tell me, are there any strange 
gods or new mysteries?. . .The 
Heliasts were much impressed. 
But when Euthias could think of 
no more crimes with which to 
charge me, my Hyperides pleaded 



48 



so well that I lost fear with every 
word. Then, at the climax of his 
plea, did he not seize my vestment 
and tear it away, almost to my 
girdle, displaying me before the 
whole court ! ... Of course, my 
dear, the Heliasts' eyes fairly de- 
voured me; and after that Eu- 
thias was quite impotent. 
They acquitted me. Half the 
court, and a great crowd of the 
people, bore me to the temple of 
Aphrodite. . .1 suppose there will 
be a scandal. But this is of little 
enough importance since, it 
seems, I am not without certain 
powers. In any case, I am not 
only free; I am doubly famous. 

49 



XXI 

HE sent for me — he, Praxit- 
eles, beneath whose hand 
the cold stone stirs into life. 
This pleased me; and it pleased 
me also to go afoot to his dwell- 
ing, without attendants and with- 
out slaves, alone like a little poor 
girl who has only her beauty and 
her silent desires. 

When first I stood before him and 
dropped the veils from my body, 
his lips moved and his hands 
trembled. His graver cut wick- 
edly into the marble; twice, the 
hammer fell from his hand. De- 
sire overwhelmed him like a wave 



50 



— I saw it — and his eyes besought 
me wildly. But I gave no sign. 

Each day, for many days, I stood 
there while he worked. Each day 
his longings deepened. But his 
hand became strong and sure, al- 
ways revealing new contours, 
new perfections; and Desire, no 
less than Beauty, leapt from the 
marble. 

Then, at last, one day, he told me 
all was finished. And on that 
day, I stepped down from my 
pedestal — and the goddess he had 
graven from the stone gave her- 
self, living, to his arms. . .If ever 



61 



thou seest that marble, thou wilt 
understand — thou wilt under- 
stand why I waited. 



52 



XXII 

BEAUTIFUL one, thou art a 
goddess with eyes bright as 
the flashing sea and hair 
more dazzHng than the golden 
sun. Thy hps are gently curved 
and provoking as the lips of Eros; 
thy breasts mould the perfection 
of inverted cups; the slow move- 
ment of thy supple thighs sur- 
passes grace itself. 

What divine touch caressed thee, 
thus to unite in a single body all 
the perfection and all the dreams 
of gods and men? What immor- 
tal breath aspired upon thee, thus 
to illume with such warmth and 



63 



life the snowy splendor of thy 
limbs? 

I will form of thee a statue of pure 
gold upon a pedestal of polished 
marble. I will set it up in a sa- 
cred place. I will set it up for all 
men to see, even among the Del- 
phian Immortals, between the 
statues of great kings, in the 
dwelHng place of a god. And 
there I will worship it — I who 
have loved thee — I the humblest 
and the happiest of thy slaves. 



54 



XXIII 

HAIL! Goddess: Aphrodite! 
Phryne, thy votaress, sa- 
lutes thee — Phryne, thy vo- 
taress, clad in colors of her own 
choosing, shod with golden san- 
dals and burdened with the 
weight of many jewels. 
Goddess: we have many secrets, 
thou and I. Alone, we may smile, 
a little. Since all others would be 
mad, we, we at least, thou and I, 
will remain sober. Thou know- 
est I have no illusions . . . 
O Cytheraea! how thy smile has 
drawn me ! Lo, I am the mistress 
of a whole nation! 



56 



XXIV 

SLAVES, fill the lamps with 
perfumed oil, and trim the 
wicks, for my lover comes, 
this night. Spread the couches 
with silks of rarest purple; set 
forth cups of crystal, cups of 
gold; strew the threshold of my 
house with roses for, this night, 
my lover comes to me. 

Skilfully wind my hair, pierce it 
w^ith golden pins and bind it with 
a ribbon of pure gold. Cover all 
my body with sweet ointments, 
darken mine eyes with fard, and 
polish each pink nail with the 
powder of roses. Then clothe me 



56 



in the softest, finest linen and gird 
me with the cestus of all desire. 

I hear a foot-fall, a sigh before my 
door. . .Hasten, slaves! light still 
more lamps, lest my lover miss 
his way. Open wide the door lest 
he chance to pass me by. Stand 
upon the threshold among the 
roses and, when you see him, call 
to him; bid him enter, quickly; 
tell him that Phryne waits, and 
bid him hasten. . . 



67 



XXV 

FRIEND, when thou goest to 
Thespiae, ask the citizens to 
show thee their city^s great- 
est treasure. They will lead thee 
to a temple and show thee the 
statue of a god. It is the statue 
of Eros — Eros, the god of love. 

Thou wilt find it beautiful. It is 
beautiful as the love from whence 
it came. Praxiteles wrought it — 
for me — for Phryne. For, he said, 
it was the image of my son — 
Eros, born of the goddess. 

It stands in my native city where 
all may see, in remembrance of 



58 



delight surpassing all desire, and 
happiness beyond all human 
dreams. It shows, also, that 
Phryne does not forget. . .An im- 
mortal, we gave it birth, we who 
also are immortal — I for the 
beauty I revealed and he, Praxit- 
eles, for the beauty set up before 
all future ages, graven in the 
stone. 



59 



XXVI 

EACH springtime, the trees, 
bare of the autumn past, 
bring forth new leaves; the 
streams shake off their icy bonds; 
the earth stirs into hfe. And each 
springtime, thine image, O Pearl- 
Born, brightens in the hearts of 
men. Ah ! why, of all these 
things, must I, alone, perish? 
Why can my springtime, once 
past, return no more? 

Yet — if my springtime passes, if 
my summer blows full, let me be 
clad in gold and scarlet and let 
my couch be strewn with roses. 
Hide only, with thy radiance, 



60 



Persephone's wan smile — diffuse 
with thy dripping perfumes the 
slow fragrance stealing from dis- 
tant fields of asphodel. And the 
sound of my clashing bracelets, 
the call of flutes and citherns and 
the songs of my lovers shall rise 
to thee Uke a vast hymn of praises 
without end. 



61 



XXVII 

ARCHIAS, thou art still hand- 
some. What a pity thou 
art not an Athenian ! I have 
learned to love the Athenians — 
and they me. 

But of thy city, thou talkest to 
suffocation. Hast thou not heard 
what happened to me there?... 

I sent a message to the citizens of 
that city. I, Phryne, once a Boeo- 
tian, offered to rebuild with Athe- 
nian gold those walls of Thebes, 
famous in song; to restore the 
seven gates of the city of Cadmus. 
All I asked, as a memorial, was 



that, upon the new walls, there be 
inscribed these words: What 
the great Alexander destroyed, 
Phryne restores. 

I would have beggared myself; 
but the citizens were too proud— 
they refused the gift and their 
city still lies defenseless. . .Ar- 
chias, thine eyes are clear; thou 
and I, we come from the sam.e 
race and we are no longer chil- 
dren. Remain thou herein Athens 
where the walls are strong, and I 
will buy for thee whatever house 
thou niayest choose, for thy 
dweUing. 



63 



XXVIII 

NICIPPE is dead. We have 
borne her to the tomb, at 
night, guided by flaring 
torches. We have poured upon 
her stela oil and perfumes and our 
tears. 

Now she lies alone with her 
flasks, her perfume vials and her 
treasures, holding in her still 
hands the mirror of bronze which 
once reflected her bright eyes and 
smiling lips, veiled in the dark 
waves of her hair where once the 
hands of lovers strayed. 

Ototoi! But a few days since, she 
was like us, living and warm. 



64 



Soon, perhaps, we will be as she 
is now. Other hands, unknown, 
will lay us in our tomb and, with 
the passing days, the memory of 
our love will fade, melting among 
the slow dreams of distant years. 



65 



XXIX 

AUTUMN .'...Somewhere, in 
the north, the bright-hued 
leaves fall gently from the 
trees and cover the forest paths; 
the slow contours of the hills rise 
more sharply against the sky; the 
night air grows chill. . . 

Thespiae: when the summer dies, 
the heart of Phryne stirs with 
memories of thee, with vague re- 
grets. So many years ago I left 
thee ! . . . Will I never see again 
thy houses and temples, the bright 
flowers of thy pasture lands, thy 
brooks and groves? Will I never 
hear again the well-remembered 

66 



voices of those, so fortunate, who 
have never left thee ? Or are they 
dead, those people, and thy tem- 
ples fallen, thv brooks rocky and 
dry? 

Gone are all thy dryads; the 
nymphs of thy woods and fields, 
the naiads of thy springs, have 
forgotten me, long since. . .Thes- 
piae!. . .How the leaves rustle in 
the wind. . . 



67 



List of Books in Belles-Lettres 

Published by NICHOLAS L. BROWN 

1720 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia 

Leonidas Andreiyeff. A Dilemma. 75r. 

Mitchell S. Buck. Ephemera. Greek Prose Poems. $2.25. 

— The Songs of Phryne. 60c. 

Donald Evans. Two Deaths in the Bronx. $1.00. 
— Discords. $1.00. 

— Nine Poems from a Valetudinarium. $1.00. 

Ernest Lacy. Plays and Sonnets, 2 volumes. Volume 
I: The Bard of Mary Redcliffe, a play in 5 acts. 
Volume II: Rinaldo, the Doctor of Florence, a play 
in 5 acts. Chatterton, a one-act play. Sonnets. 
Each $1.75. 

Also: Memorial Edition of Plays and Sonnets, in one 
volume. $2.00. 

W. Barran Lewis. Number Seven and other one-act 
plays. $1.20. 

Ame Norrevang. The Woman and the Fiddler. A 
play. Translated by Mrs. Herman Sandby. 75c. 
Rear-Admiral Geo. Henry Preble. History of the Flag 
of U. S. A., etc., with illustrations, maps and color- 
plates. 2 large volumes. $10.00. 



August Strindberg. The Creditor. A play. 750. 
— Swanwhite. A Fairy Drama. 75c. 

— Froken Julie. {^Countess Julia.) A naturalistic 

tragedy. 75c. 

Arthur K. Stern. Fairy Qiiackenbose. A fairy tale 
with modern improvements. Illustrated by Iredell. 75c. 

Pitts Sanborn. Vie de Bordeaux. A volume of poems 
in English. $1.00. 

Leon N. Tolstoi. The Living Corpse (Zhivoi Trup), 
A drama in 6 acts and 12 tableaux. 75c. 

Frank Wedekind. The Awakening of Spring. A 
tragedy of childhood dealing with the sex question in 
its relationship to the education of children. Sixth 
edition. $1.25. 

— Such Is Life. A play in 5 acts. $1.25. 

Emile Zola. For a Night; the Maid of the Dawber; 

Complements. 7Sc. 

Leonidas Andreiyeff. Silence. 55c. 

Vsevolod Gorshin. A Red Flower. J5c. 

August Strindberg. Motherlove. A one-act play. 35c. 

Frank Wedekind. Rabbi Ezra and the Victim. 55c. 

— Grisley Suitor. 35c. 

Complete List on Application. 
If Your Bookseller Cannot Supply the Volume Desired 
Write to Publisher at the Above Address. 



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